


poems to lou

by larrystylinsobbing



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Diners, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Poetic, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:12:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrystylinsobbing/pseuds/larrystylinsobbing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the first poem harry wrote about louis was meant to be the last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	poems to lou

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this bad boy in 4 hours and stayed up til 5 am. i need to sleep.

the first poem harry wrote about louis was meant to be the last.

 

oh mighty stranger,  
i feel graced just to have been able  
to see your eyes  
to hear your voice  
to map out the curve of your spine  
as you hunched over the ketchup disposer.

 

harry works at a diner, which had been in the family longer than anyone could remember. every day was a slow one; filled only with the sound of that one faucet that refused to stop leaking. harry had had no motivation to apply for a college and instead had made himself at home with the daily, mundane routine of working full time. he was often alone on his shifts. but then again, he was often alone all the time.  
so when the beautiful stranger comes in again, harry can’t help but write another poem, and he watches the boy eat. it’s the only way to stop the words from catapulting out of his mouth and assaulting the slightly tense silence.

 

i’m watching you eat a burger  
and for the first time in my   
*stupid*  
life,  
i wish i was a burger  
so that i may get the honor  
of being inside of you.

 

later on, harry tore that poem out of his journal and tossed it in the trash. it had sounded much too creepy for his liking, anyway.   
maybe louis really liked burgers, or maybe he really liked boys who needed a haircut. because he showed up. again. and this time he put a dollar in the tip jar with a blush on his sharp cheekbones.   
and harry’s heart melted.  
to keep up with routine (because harry loved routine), he wrote a poem.

 

bright  
bright  
blindingly bright.  
the sun even told me  
he’s jealous of how you shine.  
how do you look  
so   
fucking  
good  
eating a dead cow.  
i wish i wasn’t a little cunt  
so that i could maybe  
get the courage  
to say hello.

 

and by now, harry expects him. it feels like an itch. like a mosquito had sucked out his common sense and social skills and left him with a constant reminder. an itch that he scratched every time louis walked through the door.  
but today things go differently, because louis says more words than his usual order.  
‘hi, um i’m louis.’  
and harry frowns harder than he has ever frowned. but not from any sort of negative emotion, because there’s actually a thousand kittens purring in his body and giving him little shivers of pleasure. no, he frowns out of pure confusion. it seems as if the routine has changed.  
‘yeah, i. i’m harry.’  
and louis takes his food, and eats in silence. and leaves without a good-bye.  
the second the other boy’s tiny, tiny feet step out of the door, harry is scrambling for his journal, completely unaware of the fact that louis is watching him through the window with a curious smile. and so he writes.

 

he speaks!  
he speaks!  
he speaks!  
his voice a song  
like a gentle lullaby   
soothing my anxiety  
and causing the rainclouds  
which constantly lurk in the head beneath my curls  
to dissipate.  
and all that is left   
is beauty.  
beauty  
and that smile.  
that shy smile.

 

harry thinks that must be his favorite poem so far.  
the next time louis comes in, his order is ready for him by the time he floats pleasantly through the dingy doors. to harry, it more closely resembles an angel passing through the gates of heaven. and oh how he wishes this angel would commit sin with him.  
louis never looks harry in the eyes, but takes his food and makes his payment. he does however, speak again.  
‘no offense, but your burgers are a bit shit.’  
and it seems as if every time he opens his mouth it is merely to confuse harry more.  
‘well then why do you come here?’  
louis directs his gaze even lower to the floor, cheeks painted a shady of rosy pink, and puts a dollar in the tip jar without another word. harry spends the entire time that louis eats trying to mix the ketchup and mayonnaise to create the exact shade of louis’ blush. he is unable to make a color that is quite that beautiful.  
louis leaves, but stays by the window again, and harry is none the wiser .

 

pink.  
i see pink.  
i think pink.  
i hear pink.  
i speak pink.   
i *feel* pink.  
i will think about that shade  
tonight when i dream  
tomorrow when i wake up  
and i will see that shade  
when i see you again.  
i hope.

 

harry does in fact dream about that blush. or more accurately how nicely it would look on louis after he rides harry into oblivion. but it’s alright, because harry is nineteen and nineteen year olds are allowed to be perverts.  
louis’ order is ready on the counter and louis is paying. harry holds his breath and hopes that the boy will give him another sentence to ponder about. they’re annoyingly mysterious in a wonderful way.  
‘green is like a promise. a promise of life and growth. but it can also be wicked. so i think i’m afraid of green.’  
and it’s so quick that harry can barely compose a reply.   
‘but green can also be your favorite sweater. the one that smells like coffee and gingerbread. green can be safety and home.’  
and harry isn’t sure why he’s defending green, only knows that it has caused louis to pause momentarily before scuttling away with that pink.  
harry forgets to wait for louis to leave before taking out his journal. he doesn’t notice the way louis stares at him curiously.

 

what is green  
how do you feel green  
and most importantly  
why would you want anything to do with green  
when there is the pink.

 

that night, harry looks at the mirror for the first time. he stares into the reflection of his eyes and chokes out a hysterical laugh. it somehow ends in a sob, and as he falls to the floor, leaning against the cool, tiled wall, he isn’t sure whether he wants to die. or maybe he wants to live forever.  
when louis pays harry the next day, with his gaze locked on the floor that is covered with a layer of grime, harry looks carefully at this eyes and is blinded. blinded by sapphires and the color of the tip top of the sky, just before it is immersed in black.   
harry decides to be daring, mostly because he still feels out of his mind from the night before. and now harry is questioning why he ever chose to be in his mind, when the world outside of it was much more fantastic.  
so he speaks, before louis can mutter out confusing words.  
‘a lot of people think blue is like the ocean. but i think the ocean is wild. the ocean can drown you or carry you away from home. i think blue is more like sleep. sleep is where dreams come true.’  
and now louis looks up higher, but not yet to harry’s face. he stares holes into harry’s torso and whispers so softly,  
‘but what if you go to sleep and never wake up?’  
harry smiles grimly,   
‘i would love to never wake up if i meant i got to dream forever.’  
louis opens his mouth and releases a quick syllable, before shutting it sharply and walking out the door without another word. his burger, and harry, are left abandoned.  
harry eats the burger while he writes, and is oblivious the sounds of louis’ heavy breathing and body shaking just outside the door, as he fights down the rising panic.

 

i would sleep forever  
if it meant i got to dream of you.

also.  
you were right.  
this burger is shit.

 

harry buys a burger from the five closest fast food places, the next day. when louis arrives, his eyes widen in confusion, but harry just chuckles.  
‘i feel bad for making you eat those pathetic pieces of shit, before. so i just decided why not get you a better one today. i didn’t know what you liked so.’  
and louis stares a little longer at the five separate plates covered with grease ridden fries and massive patties. he finally takes the dairy queen plate and harry allows himself to squeal internally because dairy queen is his favorite as well.  
‘what do you dream of?’ louis asks with his eyes on his food.  
‘i dream of loads of things.’  
and louis looks frustrated, but also unable to express why he feels that way, ‘but what could possibly be so wonderful that you would want to die just to see?’  
‘anything is better than living like i do now. alone. like a sparrow that has been caged. destined to never find their mate.’  
and the pink is back, ‘why do you think you’re alone?’  
‘because no one has given me a reason to feel otherwise.’  
louis didn’t speak for the rest of the day. and so harry writes.

 

you have found a way  
like black magic  
to push these words and thoughts,  
that i normally wouldn’t share,  
out of my mouth   
and into the judgmental air  
so that you may know how i feel.  
and i want you to know.  
need you to know.  
how badly i want to feel your skin  
and how you make me feel like  
sugar, so sweet  
fire, so destructive.  
you are a drug  
and pardon me for being cliché  
because i am addicted  
addicted to the feeling of your presence.  
you are my nicotine.  
and maybe i could start calling you nic for short.  
and we would have our first inside joke.  
wouldn’t that be lovely.  
but no, nic,   
what i want most  
is to feel the electricity   
travelling down my spine  
when you look me in the eye  
and tell me i’m not alone.  
not anymore.

 

harry spends the rest of his shift hunched over on the floor drowning out his sorrows in his own tears and wishing desperately that there was something in the shithole of a diner that could possibly get him high enough to remember what it was like to be in high school and have an infinity of future ahead.  
when louis comes in again, his hair is wild, but his eyes are wilder. they don’t gaze at the ground, but instead they stare at nothing. his fingers twitch and he can’t seem to get a grip on the money that he continually attempts to hand to harry. something isn’t right.  
in turn, harry isn’t okay. this boy who means both nothing and everything is now seeming to be crazier than usual. and he’s usually a bit too crazy. so harry pushes a boundary and decides to ask.   
‘you look mad. like you’ve swallowed the earth and all it’s grief. but you look happy too. like you’ve taken the joy of a child and twisted it into something morbid.’  
and louis laughs. he laughs and harry can tell it is not his usual laugh, even though he’s never heard it before. no, this laugh is cruel and menacing and condescending. it pierces harry’s ears and claws at harry’s heart and prickles wet droplets on his eyelids. but he will take the sound and cherish it forever, because it came from louis. the boy with the pink.  
‘harry, i’ve finally found it! i’ve found the solution for everything and it’s so brilliant!’  
and louis pulls out the solution for everything from his pocket. harry is surprised to see that this solution is a bag of white powder, that most definitely is not the sugar that his mother used to sprinkle on his donuts. harry thinks that this is just what he’s been wishing for.   
maybe louis is really an angel. an angel willing to sin.  
louis shares his solution for everything and together they fly to heaven and back. harry has never flown like this, only dropped to laziness and thoughtfulness that is induced by marijuana. but flying is much more radiant.   
when louis flys, he lets harry touch. he lets harry feel how his body curves like the waves crashing against the sea. he lets harry press his lips against his and taste some of his madness. harry thinks that just louis’ body could make him feel higher than anything.  
when louis leaves that day, he is covered in bruises caused by kisses instead of punches. harry likes that shade of purple more than anything. even more than the pink. and so the boy with the pink became the boy with the purple.  
and harry writes just as he’s coming down.

 

if i close my eyes and squeeze so tight  
i can feel your smoothness on my fingertips.  
today i mapped you out with my mouth  
and my tongue  
and my lips  
and my palms  
and my eyes  
and my heart.  
but i found myself wishing that you were always flying  
so that i could always touch  
and so that your eyes would move from the floor.  
i feel so guilty   
its eating at my heart   
because the only way i can show you my love  
is by getting you high.  
and yes it is love.  
was most likely love from the first poem.  
but what makes no sense  
is that i don’t know a damn thing about you  
other than that you’re a boy  
who will most likely  
get me addicted   
to an illegal  
drug.

 

harry’s hands shake as he writes, in a way they never have before. he can’t even find it in himself to worry about what that might mean. he’s too busy worrying about the fact that his angel may very well be the devil in disguise.   
but harry sins again the very next day when louis and the solution come in. louis’ eyes are so bright, and harry pretends that it’s because he is with the one he loves most, and not because the solution is working it’s way through louis’ system.   
flying is not nearly as good the second time, but touching louis is. the boy giggles and jokes and kisses him back and harry feels better than he has ever felt before. he doesn’t need the solution, nor does he want it, but he does want louis. and louis won’t love him back if he doesn’t take the solution.  
louis goes home even later than the day before. the sky has already darkened, along with the hickeys all over his body. and they really are all over his body. funny thing about the solution is that it completely eliminates the word no from louis’ vocabulary.  
harry thinks about it, after louis leaves. he thinks that what he is doing is horrid and wrong and that he has never hated himself more. and then he thinks of louis, and it’s like the high is back and better than ever.  
so he writes.

 

louis is french.  
the language of love.  
if my heart could speak   
it would only say your name.  
at night it would whisper your name into my pillow case  
where i wish your head was resting  
and during the day,  
when you’ve yet to arrive,  
it would scream your name  
and wait for a reply  
because my heart always craves you  
just like you crave the solution  
and when i’m with you   
my heart would moan your name  
because you are pleasure  
you are lust  
you are the stars in the sky  
that are so so beautiful  
and i can look  
but i can’t touch.  
but it’s worse for you  
because i can look and touch  
but you’re just as distant as the stars.  
and my hands are quivering  
as i write this  
because sometimes stars fall.

 

during the day, when louis hasn’t arrived, harry feels nothing. at first he thought it was just the last of his teenage hormones peaking through, but now he knows that without louis he is nothing. so it’s only natural to feel that way.  
louis is in tears when he bursts through the doors, and harry immediately scoops him into his arms and frantically kisses the tears away. angels should never cry. even if they are only pretending to be one.   
harry looks into his love’s dilated eyes and sees hurt and fear and confusion and he knows that no matter the problem, he will fix it. his demonic angel must always be smiling.  
‘what’s the matter?’  
‘i don’t know what happened, but he was so angry. he meant it, harry, he meant it because it’s gone. it’s all packed and it’s gone.’  
harry hugs him using all of his body. he folds his arms around louis’ middle and tucks the boy’s body into his. they fit together so perfectly, which only further proves that they were meant to be. louis’ body is trembling with fear, as well as the effects of the solution. harry rocks him slowly, until both their breathing is even and louis may better explain.  
‘ok, darling, tell me everything. whatever it is, i’ll fix it.’  
louis stays tucked into harry but whispers, ‘niall kicked me out of the flat. i haven’t paid rent, and he says he’s angry because he thinks i’m getting up to no good. but i’m not getting up to no good, because i’m with you. you keep me from doing bad and feeling bad. you save me. but he wouldn’t listen and he packed all my things, put them in my car, and then made me drive off.’  
harry doesn’t even have to think, before replying, ‘that should be fine, love. come home with me after work. you’ve got all your things already, so moving in should be simple. live with me, louis.’  
louis jerks back from their embrace in surprise. he is smiling and it’s more genuine than harry has ever seen it. he kisses harry hard and whispers in his ears all the ways that he can make use of harry’s ratty, queen-size mattress.  
harry lives in the one room house, that is more of a shack, right next door to the diner. louis seems amazed by everything, especially by the fact that the only room separate from the rest of the house was the bathroom.  
that night, louis brings out more of the solution, and harry stops himself from wondering how he always has some. louis inhales it deeply before offering a line to harry.  
the curly haired boy still doesn’t want to do it. but now not only does he have to because of louis, but because his body is aching for it, craving it almost as much as he craves his new roommate. and that terrifies harry. nearly scares him to tears. but there’s no way that he could possibly cry with louis around. he’s much too lovely. so harry takes the solution and ignores the signs that he has lost all control.  
louis goes through with his promises. louis is flying and harry is floating nervously, but the way they make love gets him high again. he’s glad he doesn’t have neighbors, so that no one else can hear the gorgeous sounds that louis makes.   
harry writes, while louis sleeps.

 

love is bliss  
and now you are here  
and will be here forever.   
you will be here to wake me up  
and sing me to sleep  
and fight off the monsters that lurk in the back of my mind.  
because i am still out of my mind.  
getting back in   
is so   
so   
much harder  
than getting out.  
but you,  
louis,  
will be my saving grace.  
my guardian angel   
to keep me on this world  
and save me from myself.

 

harry tells louis he loves him.  
louis kisses him and cradles his body into his, despite his smaller size. and that is what harry thinks heaven is; the feeling of being loved by an angel.  
that night, after the solution had kicked in, and both boys were tucked into bed, louis looked up into harry’s eyes for the very first time. his gaze is distant and dreamy and insane, and nothing like harry expected. it chills harry to the very core, and he almost screams in agony, because his love’s eyes are nothing like angel’s. they are like a snake’s. like a boa constrictor, slowly choking the life out of harry, until he is nothing but a lifeless body. but then louis says something to soothe every nerve in harry’s hypersensitive body.  
‘do you still feel alone?’  
‘not when i’m with you.’ harry smiles, unable to help himself.  
‘how do you feel, when you’re with me?’  
‘i feel like i have found a home. and my home is the most beautiful boy. i feel like i’ve gone outside on the first day of summer and the air smells like freshly mowed grass and sun tan oil.’  
louis smiled and rested his predatory gaze on harry for a bit longer, before closing his eyes for sleep. harry doesn’t know why it feels like a relief.   
the darkness is so thick, that harry can hardly see as he writes.

 

i often wonder  
how my darling,  
my love,  
my everything,  
became the way that he is today.  
he was broken when i met him  
possibly beyond repair.  
but i fixed him.  
fixed him with my love.  
because now he smiles and looks into my eyes.

 

harry doesn’t mention the way the eye contact felt like a premonition. a prediction of his downfall.  
the next morning, harry is awoken by the smell of eggs. louis cooked every egg in the entire refrigerator as a breakfast feast for them. harry gives him a thank-you-blowjob.  
he ignores the fact that louis took even more of the solution than normal, and that the sentiment was merely a result of his madness. a sober louis would understand that two people can’t eat three dozen eggs. sober louis died weeks ago. but harry is unaware. he makes sure that he stays that way.  
louis leaves. after telling harry that he’s going out the buy groceries, he returns back hours later, without a single grocery bag. harry starts to question him, but louis brings out the solution, and a lot of it. harry forgets what he was mad about in the first place.  
that day, harry notices the way his body rocks with tremors. he is so afraid, more afraid than he has ever been. as usual, he looks to louis for comfort. and louis is there physically, but his mind is gone. so much farther than anyone could ever reach.  
and now the fear escalates. harry screams and cries and curses, but louis doesn’t listen. he stares ahead at the empty wall with his boa constrictor eyes. harry stares into the pools of sinister blue and he can’t breathe.  
blue is sleep.  
and this blue is the kind that sleeps forever.  
harry reaches out and attempts to write a poem. his muscles spasm and his vision blurs with tears and the effects of the solution. he can only manage to write one sentence.

 

save me from this madness.

 

that night, after harry has come down, and his body is achy and sad, he looks at louis. looks at him with his full attention. his love’s mind is still floating somewhere in the cosmos, and he doesn’t even notice harry’s eyes on him. doesn’t notice harry’s sobs because he’s skin and bone and purple bags beneath his eyes.  
but harry still feels it. feels the love and protectiveness. he still wants to take away anything that could be a problem in louis’ life. so he sits and thinks of what his problem could possibly be.  
it hits him like a ton of bricks that maybe the solution has been the problem all along.  
the next morning, louis is asleep, and harry doesn’t want to wake him. louis looks more like an angel when he sleeps, but now he looks like a fallen angel. harry shakes that thought out of his head.  
when louis awakes, at six pm that night, he seems lost.  
‘what’s going on?’  
‘you just woke up, silly.’ harry laughs, because normal couples joke with each other. and they’re a normal couple.  
‘oh. i’m kinda hungry. could you make me something?’  
harry practically jumps from his seat, and scrambles to make the best dinner he can whip up. most of the food in the kitchen has gone quite a while without consumption.  
by the time harry is finished, louis is already flying again, and harry is quick to follow. he doesn’t want it. he needs it. and he’s beginning to feel the same way towards louis.  
the dinner harry prepared goes uneaten. neither of them notice.  
harry writes a poem, while he’s flying. louis is giggling over his shoulder, reading his thoughts as he prints them on the page.

 

life is fast  
quick zoom  
louis.  
what am i   
louis keeps laughing  
so cute  
cutest boy  
that’s what i thought when he came in the diner.  
louis  
how long  
how long  
how long  
how long  
ago did that even  
louis louis.

 

for once he falls asleep before louis, because louis is still an airplane soaring through the sky.   
when he wakes up, louis is trembling violently. his body thrashes and quivers and he scratches at the skin of his arms. harry is bleary and tired, but he throws it all aside, because his angel is not okay.  
‘what’s wrong, love? talk to me?’  
‘you wrote it all.’  
‘what?’ harry’s brain is sluggish and slow.  
‘i always wondered ya know? from the very beginning i wondered what you were fucking writing. so i decided to see. i read it. from day one,’ louis’ speech is beginning to speed up, as he rocks slowly on the mattress, and harry is so scared, but he has to know what louis will say so he remains quiet.  
‘you fucking fancied me from day one. just like i did to you,’ harry’s heart leaps, but louis sounds so furious about his confession, ‘and it was so fucking easy back then. it was so mother fucking easy. the only fucking thing you gave one damn about was making me blush. and then. and then. and then now this is a wreck. harry this is a bloody nightmare!’  
harry spots the empty bag on the dresser. the bag which was supposed to hold their entire fix for the day. and it was empty.  
‘louis did you take this all?’ harry asks cautiously.  
louis doesn’t answer. only manages to scream more obscenities. harry is afraid, which is becoming normal, because his angel is furious. his angel is furious at him for loving so much and loving so purely. so he runs.  
there’s nowhere to go in the tiny house, so he hides in the bathroom and sleeps in the tub.   
harry doesn’t write a poem that day.   
harry wakes in the morning for the first time in more than a week. he is greeted with louis, giving him an apologetic hug. harry doesn’t want louis to apologize. harry doesn’t know what he wants louis to do.  
things are tense. harry consumes the bare minimum that he can consume without suffering withdrawal, and louis floats his high alone and silent.  
harry writes a poem that night.

 

you asked me if i feel alone  
and i said ‘not with you’  
but what has happened  
oh sweet lover?  
what caused us to fall into this place?   
maybe it’s that your solution solves nothing.  
or maybe it’s because your love is the only drug i need  
and that you are only capable   
of loving  
a drug.

 

harry spends the time that louis is flying to think. he wonders how he let things get this far. sometimes, he creates a different world for harry and louis in his head, where the solution never took over. those are the times he cries the hardest.   
the worst part is, harry knows what he should do, but he can’t bring himself to do it. that would mean defeat.  
but other times he remembers the boa constrictor eyes. once, harry made the mistake of looking in the mirror. he saw a lifeless body.  
his mind is made up for him on the day that louis runs out of the solution.   
harry was writing poems, because that was really all he did, when louis came barging in from the bathroom. he was the embodiment of fury.   
his words spit out like fire, ‘where’d you put the rest of it?’  
harry knew exactly what he was talking about, ‘i don’t ever touch the stuff, lou. you’re in charge of it. i only take what you give me.’  
‘bullshit!’  
harry wasn’t prepared for louis’ outburst and he especially wasn’t prepared when louis smacked him on the left side of his face with full force. he let out a squeal of pain that went unnoticed by louis.  
‘get me more, bitch! get it right fucking now! i know you fucking took some of it while i was sleeping!’  
harry didn’t cry. he no longer was able to. instead, he did exactly as louis told him, and ignored the voice in his head that was screaming at him for listening to his angel. his angel of sin.  
that night, after louis was gone away in his high, harry wrote his final poem. he left it there on his spot on the mattress . he stopped after closing the front door behind him to send a prayer. a prayer that his angel would make it back to heaven.

louis awoke feeling twitchy. he craved his high, and was eager to get his morning fix. the piece of paper on the bed stopped him. he opened it with trembling fingers and began to read.

 

to my dearest love,  
i wrote you so many poems  
so many confessions of my deepest desires to love you  
but now my poems of you must come to an end  
because now my deepest desire to never see you again.  
you slipped in my life so sneakily  
like a shadow creeping under the crack of a door  
but once you were in my life,  
my heart,  
my soul,  
you took everything.  
you took my love  
my food  
my money  
my health  
my virginity  
and my sanity.  
what am i now but a ghost of a man?  
you looked in my eyes and caused me to fear you  
and you looked in my eyes and caused me to love you unconditionally.  
why must i love a man whom i do not know?  
my love for you is purer than a diamond  
and stronger than steel  
but my hate for your drug is fiercer than the bravest soldier.  
it seems that i cannot have one without the other  
and i will not suffer any longer.  
i used to think you were an angel.  
i realized today that you are nothing.  
nothing but temptation sent from lucifer.  
you are the forbidden fruit  
and i am eve  
the blissful and ignorant victim who took a bite.  
i will never return to this place.  
do not look for me.  
do not call for me.  
i will be on the road to rediscovery without you   
or the vile you worship,  
more commonly known as cocaine.  
if we meet in the future  
it will be by chance.  
i hope you become okay  
and do not give into the blue,  
the eternal slumber.  
i will never forget you.  
you will always be my   
one   
and  
only  
love.  
goodbye my darling,  
harry.


End file.
